Fear and Loafing
by born30
Summary: Sometime in the middle of S2 Dean is forced to face his odd fear when the boys get stuck behind a stalled train.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own Supernatural or its characters.

"Move your ass!"

"Uh, Dean. I don't think the train is going to move, no matter how loud you yell at it."

Dean shook his fist out the window before letting his arm drop in exasperation. "How are we supposed to get over there," he pointed past the stalled train, then to the ground below. "When we're here?"

"We park the car and walk."

"What? You planning on climbing over a boxcar?"

Sam looked at his brother. "More like through."

"No way."

"It's getting late, dude, and that guy's gonna leave if we don't show."

With a scowl, Dean sighed, "Fine."

After safely tucking the Impala behind a grove of evergreens, the brothers approached the tracks.

Dean punched his fist into his open palm and shook his shoulders loose. He looked more like a boxer preparing for a fight than a hunter.

"Are you coming?" Sam had pried open the heavy, rusted door and was about to haul himself inside. When he heard no response, he looked for his brother only to find him attempting to squeeze in between two boxcars. "What are you doing?"

"Just crossing the tracks, Sammy."

"It's easier to just cut through the car."

"No, it's not."

Sam could always tell when his brother was stalling. "Okay, so what are you afraid of this time?"

Shoving his shoulder between some cables, Dean scoffed. "Nah. No fear."

"Let me guess. You're afraid of trains, part of your grand 'I hate all forms of transportation other than an old Impala phobia."

Wrestling loose from the tight space, Dean abandoned his first plan and started scouting the underbelly of the train. "Laugh all you want, but that last plane ride was a bit too E-ticket for even _your_ taste."

"You'd have to be a midget to fit under there."

Dean squatted down, determined to prove his brother wrong. But after many failed attempts and a solid bump on the head, he finally rolled out from underneath. "Don't say a word."

"Come on, spill it."

Jumping to his feet and brushing the thick dust from his jeans, Dean glared and mumbled something.

"What? Did you say bobos?"

"Why the hell would I be afraid of bobos?" Dean tossed his hands in the air. "What the hell are bobos anyway?"

"Now you're just avoiding the subject, Dean."

The older brother cleared his throat. "Hobos."

"You have a fear of hobos? As in… bums, vagabonds?" Sam snickered. "What do you call that? Fear and _loafing_? Oh no, wait. Hobophobia!"

"Yeah, ha ha, Mister Morbid Fear of Clowns."

"Whatever. When did this phobia set in?"

"Back when we were teens." Dean leaned back against the train. Intricate graffiti – once bright and vibrant, but now faded – framed his body. "Remember being holed up in that farm town in Oklahoma while dad was out on a hunt?"

"Yeah, I remember."

"Well, I wasn't gonna wait it out in the library like you, so…"

Sam rolled his eyes. "You hooked up."

"Crystal Banks. Heck of a girl." Dean stared off, relishing the memory. "She had this way of…"

"Stop. I don't want to know how that sentence ends." Sam grimaced at his brother's satisfied smirk. "Could you please just get to the hobo part? We're running out of time."

"Well, her dad caught wind of us and let's just say, we had to be creative in finding places to…"

"Hook up. Does this have a point?"

Dean ignored his brother and continued. "Crystal had this fantasy about doing it in a train and only freight trains passed through there, so…"

"Eww." Sam scrunched his nose. "You mean cattle cars. Have you no shame?"

"Beats living like a monk. Anyway, we brought a couple blankets, a bottle of Boone's Farm, and things were heating up, when bam!" Dean smacked his hands together over his head. "This freakin' hobo lets loose this snore that could wake the dead."

Sam's face contorted in confusion. "A hobo was there in the boxcar with you? That has to be the weirdest threesome I've ever heard of." He ducked as Dean's fist swung at him.

"Don't even joke. It was dark, it looked empty." His voice lowered. "She was aggressive."

"And because of one snore, you're hobophobic?"

"You had to be there."

In one bound, Sam hopped into the car and reached out his hand to his brother. "Best way to overcome your fear is to face it. Let's go."

Dean took a slow step forward and pointed inside. "There's no…?"

"Hobos?" Sam glanced to both sides and shook his head. "It's all cool."

Inhaling deeply, Dean summoned his courage and placed both hands on the open boxcar floor. Despite the waning sun, the day's heat still permeated the metal, and he pulled his hands back quickly.

By this time, Sam had jumped out the other side. "Are you coming or not?"

Grabbing the edge of the door, Dean hesitated a moment before finally climbing inside. He stood in the middle of the car and steadied his breath. "See, Sammy. Piece of cake."

From the dark recesses of the boxcar, a raucous snort echoed off the metal walls, sending Dean bolting from the train. Sam was doubled over at the side of the gravel road, laughing harder than he thought possible.

"What the hell was that?" shouted Dean, his eyes wide.

Still chuckling, Sam answered, "Could've been an animal. Or maybe," he paused, wiggling his fingers at his brother. "It was a dreaded hobo."

"I hate you sometimes."

"You should have seen your face."

Dean ran a hand through his hair and pointed down the road. "Don't we have somewhere to be?"

They had only walked a few steps when the screeching steel wheels of the freight train lurched forward and started their slow roll over the rails.

"You have _got_ to be kidding me," muttered Dean. He turned in his tracks and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Uh, Dean?"

"Just waiting for the Impala, Sam."

"Sounds like a plan, bro."


End file.
